


Waiting for so Long

by CheyanneChika



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: #coulsonlives, Character Death Fix, Coulson Lives, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Nick Fury Lies, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Reunions, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyanneChika/pseuds/CheyanneChika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured on an op in Brazil, Skye is imprisoned with a mysterious man who might or might not be a SHIELD Agent.</p>
<p>Can't give any more detail.  Spoilers through 1x12 and will be edited to accept new data from the episodes unless it becomes too divergent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somebody's Watching Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Avengers type fanfiction. Please give me your honest opinion because I love Clint/Coulson fics and want to leave one of my own in the fantastic ream already here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title by Rockwell featuring Michael Jackson

“This is so not cool!” Skye yelled as the cell door slammed shut, cutting off all light but what the dim bulb out in the hall cast through the small, barred window in the door.  She waited until the footsteps of her captives had retreated before she kicked the door as hard as she could.

It wouldn’t have been effective, even if she had been wearing steel-toed boots and not a pair of her most comfortable sneakers.  She kicked the door again.  “Stupid Ward!  Stupid mission!  Stupid getting captured in a stupid van that just screams, ‘Hi! This is a surveillance team.  We’re surveilling you.’”  She wasn’t sure if surveilling was an actual word, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Her thoughts turned back to Agent Ward.  He was supposed to have been watching her while she watched the bad guys.  She truly hoped that he had simply gone unnoticed by her kidnappers or taken a bathroom break because she hadn’t seen him as she was yanked out of the van and had to believe that he hadn’t been captured as well.  Or killed.  She swallowed and kicked the door again.

“If you keep doing that, the only thing that will happen is soreness in your foot.”

Skye spun so fast, her dark hair swung all the way around to catch on her shoulder.  A very large shadow emerged from the back of the cell.  Skye scrambled back against the door.  “Who the hell are you?”

He took another step forward and she saw that, while he was a couple inches shy of six feet, he made up for it with bulging muscles in his arms and broad shoulders.  She gulped and focused on his voice, since his face was still hidden.  Judging by his accent, or lack thereof, he was an American.  More importantly, she guessed that he was not supposed to be in a Brazilian  _favela_ , also like her.  SHIELD may have said she could be, but the locals clearly hadn’t agreed.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” the stranger said, “but you have to speak in the shadows.  They’re watching.  I could only destroy the audio feed and make it impossible to install a new one.”

Tentatively, Skye moved out of the light and said, “What, you try to kill anyone who comes in?”

“Who says I try?” he asked sardonically.

She flinched.  “Who are you?”

“Clint, you?”

“Skye.  Why are you here?”  She didn’t really wanna think about why they’d grabbed her.  Mostly, she hoped it was just serendipitous and not because she had been some sort of powerful alien baby.

“Hostage, leverage, human shield, pretty much whatever they need cannon fodder for.”

Skye was about to ask who  _they_ were—she already knew they were members of a drug cartel that had somehow gotten their hands on a cache of alien weapons, but she didn’t know if he did—when her mind caught on something.  “Human shield, huh.”  She felt a small amount of hope blossom in her chest.  Maybe, just maybe, he was a SHIELD Agent.  But she couldn’t get ahead of herself or she’d blow everything up.

She was saved from trying to figure out how to let slip who she was to a fellow agent by the man himself.  “Unfortunately, being dragged out in the open would probably be the only way to escape security.  We’re eight levels down.”

That one was easy enough to figure out and it made her heart leap with joy.  A SHIELD Agent with Level Eight Security!  Then she remembered that she was only a Level Two. Apart from the others on the bus, she doubted she would ever even get to speak with an agent that high up.  She decided to lie.  “Really?  I thought it couldn’t be more than fo-five.”

“Who knows,” Clint replied.  “I’ve been down here so long, I barely remember what the sky looks like.”

She tried to decode a hidden message in the words, but found nothing.  He was just being honest.  “How long?” she murmured, afraid of the answer.

“Six weeks.”

That made her hesitate.  How could SHIELD abandon one of their own, a Level Eight no less, to this hellhole for so long?  So, instead of thinking it through, her mouth asked, disbelief etched in every word, “What did you do?”

Clint snorted.  “I got my—a person I love killed.”

Skye flinched.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he retorted with a tired voice.  “No one knows I’m here anyway.  I don’t talk to the drug lords, so they don’t know who to ransom me back to.”  He shrugged and moved to lean against the wall on the far side of the door.  “And, in any case, I can escape whenever I want.”

“But you just said—” she stopped talking.

“Escape isn’t the problem,” he replied, forcing his tone to be lighter.  “I knew it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed these bastards.”

The silence grew thick.  “You’re not a prisoner,” Skye said finally, “you’re waiting.”

She could almost hear Clint’s nasty little smile.


	2. When I Come Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from Green Day

SHIELD Agent Grant Ward was not happy.  First, he was stuck in Brazil, where they spoke Portuguese, a language he didn’t know.  Second, he was stuck with babysitting Skye.  Third, she’d kicked him out of the van, claiming a desperate need to concentrate on one feed and, if he wanted to look at the others, he could very well go outside and actually look.  Fourth, it was very hot and he looked very out of place.  And, finally, he’d been tazed in the back of the neck.  The last thing he saw was three men converging on the surveillance van. 

Now, someone was shaking his shoulder and growling his name.  He opened blurry eyes to see Melinda May leaning over him in what might possibly have been concern.  “What happened?” she asked without preempt.

Ward closed his eyes again and grumbled unintelligibly. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” May hissed.

Ward forced his eyes open again.  “At least four men.  I was hit from behind, they got Skye, I think.  That’s all I know.”

“Why weren’t you in the van?” Coulson had come up.  He looked his usual pristine self, but the tone of voice confirmed Ward’s statement.  Skye was gone.

“No excuse, sir,” the younger agent replied. He should never have let her talk him into getting out.

Coulson grimaced.  Skye had probably been driving him crazy and he’d had to get out before he strangled her.  “This is their hideout, yes?”

Ward nodded.

“They’ve probably taken her inside,” May said gruffly, standing and pulling Ward with her.

“Seems the best bet.  They trashed the van and took the equipment.  What’s the best way to infiltrate?”

Ward considered all they’d seen on the monitors from the whole three hours he and Skye had tolerated each other.  “Front and back have armed guards, but I saw one of them open a trap door around the side of the building from his post to let someone out.  It’s padlocked, with a plain old spin combination.”

“That’s too easy,” May muttered.

Coulson shook his head with a slightly weary upturn of his lips.  “Nope, they’re just too cheap.  It’s never crossed their minds that someone bigger and cleverer than they might attack out in the open.”

May considered and nodded.  “I’ll need bolt cutters.”

“Actually, you’ll need this.”  Coulson held up a pen.  He pointed it at the ground and clicked the top.  A red beam touched the ground, which promptly began to smoke.  When Ward looked at May, her smile was feral. 

…

Clint twitched as his senses picked up that they were no longer alone.  “Looks like your friends are here,” he murmured.  Skye got to her feet.  They’d been sitting on the floor, occasionally speaking, but nothing incriminating or personal.  “That didn’t take long at all.”

“They’re good like that,” she answered, a smile in her voice, before she crossed to the door and yelled, “Is anyone out there?”

“Skye?”

The girl sagged with relief.  “Ward…what took you so long?”

Ward’s face appeared between the bars.  “Don’t act like you’ve been here for days.  It’s been four hours.  Tops.”

She pouted, but said, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

He nodded, trying to appear stoic.  “Get back from the door. Got a new toy I want to try out.”

Skye immediately backed up. Any “toy” concocted by SHIELD that had someone like Ward excited had to pack a punch.  There was silence for a moment and then the acrid smell of melting steel.  The area around the lock glowed orange and dropped to the ground.  Ward pulled open the door and Skye barreled into him.  She looked around to see the corridor was empty.  “Where is everyone?”

“Upstairs, beating the snot out of some drug lords with alien guns.  May wanted to use it on them,” he held up the pen, which Skye recognized as a laser pointer on crack that Fitz had been tweaking yesterday, “but I told her I needed it.”

“Melinda May? How’d you get her back on active duty?”

Ward stiffened as Skye’s cell mate emerged.  He reached for his gun, but paused as he came into the light.  “Barton?”

Skye turned to see her new friend’s face for the first time.  Her eyes nearly fell out of her skull.  “Oh my god! You-you’re Hawkeye.  You’re a freaking Avenger!”

Ward only managed not to smack himself in the head with great restraint.  “This is so cool.  Boss Man never lets me meet anybody in SHIELD, let alone any of the Avengers!  Oh wow!”

Clint couldn’t help himself.  He smiled a little.  There was a loud thunk over their heads and they looked up as one.  “How many people you got there?” he asked.

“Just two,” Ward replied.

“Well, May is worth about fifteen agents on her own.  Who else?”

Ward opened his mouth to answer, but a voice called, “Ward? Do you have Skye?”

“Yes, sir!” Ward called.  “Is the upper floor secured?”

“Yes.”

“Clint?” Ward frowned and followed Skye’s gaze back to Agent Barton.  The man had gone absolute still.  He could’ve been a statue.  He wasn’t even breathing.  Ward realized what was wrong two seconds too late.  Coulson had once been Barton’s handler.  Barton became an Avenger after Coulson had allegedly died.  No one had informed him otherwise.

Shit.

By the time it all clicked together, Hawkeye was already charging for the steps that led up to the surface, conveniently placed next to the ladder the team had climbed down from the trapdoor.  Rage, utter betrayal and grief fought for dominance in Clint’s eyes as he looked up at Coulson, who hardly looked like he’d spent the last few minutes beating up drug lords.

Coulson fought the urge to lick his lips nervously as he stared back at his former asset.  “Barton,” he started, but, before he could say anything else, the younger agent reached for the ladder and shot up it, through the trapdoor and was gone.

Skye’s eyebrows went up.  “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Coulson replied coolly.  He hit the floor with a thud and looked up to the clouds that threatened rain.  Ward noted the tenseness in his boss’s shoulders and somehow knew that if he were to approach, he’d end up on his ass.

Skye, however, had no such qualms.  She hurried over and looked up as well.  “If he’s an Avenger, why’d he run?”

“Because he’s mad,” Coulson replied dully. 

“An insane Avenger?” she asked incredulously.

“Of course not!”  The agent glowered at her.  “He’s mad at me.”

“Oh.  Why?”

“Because, it seems, he wasn’t informed that Coulson was brought back to life,” Ward replied.

Skye’s eyes flicked nervously away in a you’re-so-screwed-and-I’m-glad-I’m-not-you fashion.  “Oh…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, please review and I wanna thank everyone who has reviewed thus far. Please feel free to do it again and get your friends to do it too.


	3. Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is courtesy of Avril Lavigne.

Eighteen months!  Barton ran from the _favela_ and kept going.  The car he’d acquired had probably been stripped after six weeks of sitting unattended, but you never knew.

Eighteen freaking months.  He’d let Clint think he was dead all that time.  And he wasn’t.  Well fuck him!  It wasn’t like they were married or anything.  They’d just slept together.

A lot. 

Neither of them had really said much on the subject of what their relationship was, but that didn’t mean Clint hadn’t felt something for him, hadn’t been completely in love with him, hadn’t fallen into depression and self-hate when he was killed by Loki during the breakout that Clint himself had orchestrated.  That particular pain had pushed him to the edge and over it. 

Natasha had been the one to tell him as they left the shawarma place.  He’d been wondering as they sat there how long it would take for Coulson to meet with them and, when he hadn’t, he pressed his comm, calling softly for his handler.

“He won’t answer,” Natasha replied.

“Why not?”

“Because Loki killed him.”  She said it bluntly, like ripping duct tape off a captive’s mouth, and making the other Avengers wince. 

And just like that, the bottom of Hawkeye’s world dropped out, never to be seen again.

At least, not until now, when every emotion he’d systematically shoved down until he felt nothing at all came racing to a boil just underneath his skin.  He growled against the tears that threatened his eyes.  He wouldn’t cry for an asshole who cared so little for his lover that he let him think he was dead for a year and a half.

Three miles from his cell, his crappy car had been tagged a couple of times and was missing a side mirror, but seemed otherwise intact.  He didn’t have the keys anymore but he had only to jimmy the lock and hotwire it.  It revved into puttering life and he made his way to a private airport that catered to military personnel and people who were willing to pay to fly under the radar.  He could do either, but claiming military would get him noticed and he’d been unable to carry money with him so he’d been using wire transfers under a pre-SHIELD alias from a Caymans bank account.

It was only when he was standing feet away that he realized this was a stupid move because the very large SHIELD Mobile Unit was parked for all the world to see on the tarmac runway.  He sighed.  There was no way around it.  Besides, now that he had cooled down from his initial emotions, he found that he desperately wanted to see Coulson again…if only so he could punch the other man in the face.

That thought in mind, he made his way across the tarmac and set about finding the emergency escape hatch, the one that didn’t require any electronics or connect to the inner computers in case the mobile unit had been invaded or struck with an EMP.

…

Phil Coulson was torn.

On the one hand, he wanted to chase after Barton, but on the other, he had to stay and monitor clean up and he knew that his asset was long gone anyway.  But there were other ways.  He withdrew a cell phone from his pocket and called Fury’s private line.  “Fury.”

“It’s Coulson.  I need to know why Agent Barton was being held captive beneath the cartel safe house we had intel on.”  He kept his voice as calm as possible.

There was silence on the other end and Phil wondered if the call had been dropped.  Perhaps he should’ve called on a satellite phone.  Then Fury said something that made his blood run cold.

“Agent Barton went AWOL eight months ago.”

“What?” Coulson hissed.  Skye tapped him on the shoulder and faced him, concern in her eyes.  He shook his head at her.  “What happened?”

“It’s classified.”

“Sir, Agent Barton was being held hostage and you knew nothing?  Not even how long?”

“Oh,” Skye put in, “Clint—Hawkeye said he’d been there for six weeks.”

Pain erupted in Coulson’s chest.  He’d thought Barton would be fine, was fine, without him and their emotionally—and emotionally lacking, but nonetheless—complicated relationship.  Coulson was very aware of the deep feelings he had for his agent.  But feelings like that…they would only get one or the other of them, or worse, someone else, killed.  More importantly, he couldn’t take being with Clint physically and not emotionally any longer.  He couldn’t deal with waking up to an empty bed an hour after falling asleep with him.  Clint wasn’t invested in them, Phil knew that.

But, he supposed, his “death” had probably hurt his archer.  The fact that he’d been lied to for months even more so.

“Sir, did you inform the Avengers that I was alive after I recovered?”  Skye’s eyes turned questioning and he shooed her off.  She pouted, but turned on her heel.  It wasn’t like she could actually hear Fury’s response.

“I did not.”

Coulson sighed.  “I didn’t think so. Unfortunately, Agent Barton saw me.  Now he’s in the wind.”

“Shit,” Fury growled.

“At least you know he’s alive,” Coulson retorted waspishly.  “You should expect a call from Mr. Stark in the near future.”

There was a lot of muttering and swearing on the line before Fury finally snapped, “If Barton is already gone, get back in the air and fly to New York.  Damage control will be easier if you’re here and I can give you back to them.”

“Yes, sir.”  Coulson ended the call.  “May,” he called into his comm.  “Head back to the jet. We’re going to New York.  Take Skye, I’ll bring Ward when I join you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't figured it out, this is one of those "Idiots who don't realize the other is in love with him" fics. I like it, but tell me what you think.


	4. Start Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title courtesy of TobyMac

Within the hour, Coulson parked the second SUV in the loading bay and pressed his comm as Ward went to raise the bay door.  “May, we’re back.  All clear for takeoff.”

May didn’t reply.  She just started flipping controls.  She leaned back and stiffened, taking her dark eyes off the runway to look behind her.  She felt like she was being watched, but the cockpit’s door was firmly closed.  She turned back and, by the time they were in the air and she could set autopilot, the feeling had dissipated.  Maybe a trip to New York would do some good if she was starting to feel paranoid.

Then again, they were dealing with Agent Barton.  The Hawkeye she had worked with on occasion was exceptionally clever and brutal and nearly as good as hand to hand as she was, though Agent Romanoff could take them both, probably together, and still win.  He was also immature, willful and borderline sadistic when it came to pranks.  The problem with Barton was that he was unreadable when it came to his secrets.  He struck swiftly, silently and from a distance, keeping everything impersonal.  She occasionally wondered what his motives were.  He was an Avenger and Coulson’s former asset.  She also knew that he had disappeared eight months ago.  She was hazy on the details, but was pretty sure that until today, even Fury hadn’t known where he was.

Why take off, though?  People had been angry about his involvement in the first part of the Chitauri Invasion, but he’d seemed so utterly miserable afterwards that most people let it go.  They didn’t need to torture someone who was already torturing himself. 

Of course, that was something she hadn’t thought would come from Barton.  He tended to, or pretended to, brush off all the bad things he’d done for SHIELD.  He and Romanoff spent so much time beating up the bad guys and never showed remorse, but after the invasion, Barton had changed, almost collapsed in on himself.  He managed to pull it together when out in the public eye, fighting aliens and HYDRA and AIM, but the rest of the time, he was pale with dark rings around his bloodshot eyes and couldn’t find him anywhere but the shooting ranges, where no one would dare approach him.  He was Barton, the master assassin; it was highly unlikely any other agent would come out on top.

And then he was just gone. 

The other Avengers kicked up a fuss about searching for the first few months but had given up—or else just stopped using SHIELD resources for the job.  May sighed, that paranoid feeling was back.  She looked around and her eyes lit on the air vent.  That was it.  Barton was here.  Watching.  How long would she have to wait for him to make his presence known?

…

Clint climbed into the vents and had decided to wait near the cockpit until the mobile unit was up in the air before he started exploring.  He didn’t want to end up near the engines when they were turned on and burn himself as he tried to get away.  He spent a couple of hours familiarizing himself with the layout of the ventilation system.  It was rather spacious, but, if you had to climb through vents to get to certain electronic access points, it was better to have more room to do so.  He noted a conference room, a science lab, an interrogation room, sleeping quarters, Coulson’s office and the bay which held two SUVs and Coulson’s red sports car, Lola. 

Clint smiled slightly as he remembered a day years ago, back when he’d first been recruited.  He’d seen the gorgeous car and boosted it for a quick joyride.  When he brought it back—because he was supposed to be one of the good guys now and good guys didn’t steal cars—he’d found his favorite handler with cold rage in his eyes.  He hadn’t been in the car without Phil ever again.  He also hadn’t boosted another car ever again.

With the layout in mind, he slipped to the lower level, where there was a very small gymnasium, three holding cells, a records room and a computer terminal.  He punched in Coulson’s most recent information—he’d gleaned it from the vent over Coulson’s head as he typed it in and damn if he didn’t want to burst into that room and…do something.

For now, he’d settle on digging around.  Unfortunately, most things needed an additional password that he did not have.  And those were more private passwords, ones that SHIELD Record Keepers probably wouldn’t have access to either.

It was the first time in a long while that Clint found himself longing for StarkTech.  He could discreetly get any information he wanted and, for the most part, SHIELD would have no idea.  Then again, it wasn’t his job to point out that Tony Stark left back doors in every program he wrote for SHIELD. 

He quickly searched through what was accessible, namely personnel records: Skye, no last name, was not a Level Four or Five Agent, but a Level Two Civilian Hacker.  The rest of the staff on the bus consisted of two genius science types, Grant Ward, the Level Seven who’d rescued him, and Melinda May, though she was listed as just a pilot.  Yeah, just the way he could fly a quinjet, it was just something she could do besides kill twenty men with her thumb.  And Coulson was the Team Leader, though beyond the front page needed another password. 

After a couple of fruitless attempts to dig deeper, maybe figure out how/why Coulson wasn’t dead, he decided he’d just find paper records and go from there.  “Take that,” he murmured as he typed a string of code that Stark had guaranteed would hide any trace of recent activity into the computer’s mainframe and abandoned the terminal he’d been using to climb into a ventilation shaft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack...all exposition and no dialogue...sorry about that.


	5. Stuff is Messed Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is brought to you by The Offspring.

“What do you mean invalid password?” Skye growled at holographic computer interface in the conference room.

She typed her personal ID and password in again and “INVALID PASSWORD” blinked annoyingly back at her.  “It was valid twenty minutes ago!”

“Skye?” Skye turned to see Gemma Simmons in the doorway. 

“What is it?” she bit out angrily.

Simmons flinched.  “I was just wondering if you accidently did something to the computers.  Mine and Fitz’s passwords aren’t working.”

Skye’s eyes widened then narrowed.  “Mine either.”

Ward came up the stairs in workout gear, yelling, “Something’s wrong with the gym door.  It won’t take my password.”

“It seems we’re all facing a similar problem.”  Coulson stepped through the other door. 

“What the hell’s going on?” May yelled from behind him.  They all turned to look at her.  “I can’t pilot the jet.  The computer doesn’t recognize me.  I had to leave before it tried to lock me in the cockpit.”

“Then who’s flying the plane?” Fitz asked, coming up from behind Simmons.

“No one.  We’re still on autopilot, but it’s only another hour to New York.  So again I say, what is going on?”

“We’ve been sabotaged,” Coulson replied.  His tone didn’t leave any room for guesswork.

May’s lips tightened.  “Barton,” she hissed.

“What?” Everyone stared at her, even Coulson.

She shrugged.  “I’m pretty sure he’s in the ventilation system.  At least, I assume it was him.  I sensed someone in the closed cockpit.”

Ward’s eyebrows drew together.  “How’d he get onboard?  And why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I didn’t think he was going to do anything other than hitch a ride,” May snapped, annoyed with herself.  Coulson had softened her, she should never have been so lenient with a foreign presence.

“Leave it, Agent Ward. There are ways to get on the bus without tripping the computers,” Coulson said evasively.  “If the database locked us out then he’s locked out to.  He’ll go to records.”

“If he’s not only interested in sabotaging us.”

Coulson gave May a sour look.  “Why would he deliberately sabotage an airplane he was flying on in _midflight_?”

“Who says he’s still onboard?” Fitz pointed out.  “If he got on secretly, all he has to do is get a parachute and go out the way he came in.”

Ward grimaced but Coulson’s expression didn’t change.  He thought Barton might be pissed, but not homicidal.  “Agent Ward, check to make certain all of the parachutes are secure.  I highly doubt he brought his own and we’d have noticed a pressure drop if he left, so he’s definitely still onboard at the moment.  May, try to get back into the cockpit but make sure the door stays open.  Skye, I need you to try and hack back into the database.  Let May know the moment you get back in—if you get back in.  Fitz, Simmons, go secure any data and science projects not currently being held hostage by the computers.”

“Yeah, the only reason I came down here was because the computers threw me out of the lab.”

Coulson took a deep breath.  “Then go around and find out what we still have access to.”

“Yessir,” they said together. 

“Where are you going, boss?” Skye asked, even as she started messing with the holographic display. 

“Records.”

“You really think he’s gonna be down there?”

“Of course.  Agent Barton is clever, extremely clever, but he's not a technological genius with the hacking capabilities to disrupt the entire bus's mainframe.  If he did sabotage the computers, someone else gave him a way to do it.”  Coulson paused.  The only person he thought might be up to this was Tony Stark, but Stark didn't possess the subtlety to sneak about.  It had to be Barton.  Clint.

Skye looked up at him.  “You’re certain it's Agent Hawkeye, aren't you?”

“I don’t know," he lied, "but I do know that anyone who wanted into the computers and couldn’t get into them would head for records.”

Skye didn’t tell him he should at least wait for Ward to get back.  “Just be careful.”

“I will.”  With that, he headed down the steps.

…

Barton was skimming through a case file, his fourteenth, when he heard the beeping on someone trying to access the door.  Then the silver handle rattled.  “Let me in, Agent Barton.”

Coulson’s voice made him shudder with relief.  He’d heard so little of it, thought he’d never hear it again.  And now here it was, on the other side of a locked door.  The man himself was there.  Just feet away.  He closed the gap and pressed his hands to the door.  Phil Coulson was there.  All that stood between them was a handle.  A handle that he had to open.

But still, he hesitated.

The silence stretched between them before Coulson tried again.  “Please let me in.  I’m sorry.  I need to talk to you.  Let me in, Clint.”

Barton yanked the door open and stared at his formerly dead lover.  “What do you want?”

“I need to know what you did to the computers.”  All business, then.

“Nothing,” the younger agent replied, his voice laced with ice.

“None of us can get into the SHIELD database.  Did you do anything at all?”

Barton frowned.  “Just erased my recent activity.”

“How?”

“Stark gave me some coding for hiding my foot…steps…”  Both of them grimaced.  “Stark played me.”

“He played SHIELD,” Coulson countered.  “It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault.  Everything is my fault.  I suppose that’s why you didn’t bother to tell me you were still alive.” 

“That’s not it at all and you know it.  I wanted to tell you the truth.”

“What stopped you?” Barton spat.

“What do you think?” Coulson retorted.

“Fury,” Hawkeye whispered through gritted teeth.

Coulson nodded.  “You won’t find what you’re looking for down here.  And at any rate, I didn’t know the real truth until very recently.  Right now, though, I need your help.  Agent May is locked out of the cockpit and we’re less than an hour from New York City.  Can you get in contact with Mr. Stark?  If it’s his coding, he’ll be able to undo it.”

“You have a satellite phone?” Barton asked.

“In my office.”

Clint nodded.  “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone liked the reunion. There will be a juicier conversation in the next chapter...and, quite possibly, the one after that.


	6. Turbulance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is courtesy of Bowling for Soup.

“Are you having any luck?” Ward asked Skye as he entered the conference room once more.

“Nope.  Everything needs a password and I can’t get around it because that would require I use a device not currently connected to the database.”  She huffed loudly.  “All the parachutes still there?”

“Yes.  Doesn’t mean anything.”

Skye drummed her fingers on the table.  “Why don’t you like Hawkeye?”

“I don’t not like him, but he was always a cocky little punk.”

“You’ve got to be at least ten years younger than he is,” Skye argued.  “I don’t think you can call him a punk.”

Grant didn’t reply.  The fact was that Agent Coulson didn’t play favorites, but Barton acted as if he did and as if he was the favorite.  And because of that, he did a lot of things that most agents would never do.  And he got away with them.  Grant didn’t like that he wasn’t willing to take the same risks within SHIELD.  Not to mention the fact that Barton was petulant and childish the moment he was debriefed, often the moment he set foot in headquarters. 

When Barton vanished, Ward had just assumed it was another stunt.  That he was acting out the way he had before the Chitauri Invasion, when he’d suddenly turned quiet and sullen and miserable as the guilt of what he’d done ate at him.

But then he never came back.  Had he switched sides?  Was he so shattered by his betrayal via mind control that he let go of his loyalties to use SHIELD’s knowledge against them?

Apparently not, he decided when Coulson emerged from the lower level with Barton in tow.  They didn’t say anything, just headed in the direction of Coulson’s office.  Inside, Coulson closed the door and went around the desk to pull a large satellite phone from the top left drawer.  Barton took it and pressed numbers he’d memorized when he became an Avenger.

“Tony Stark.”

“Stark. Barton.  I need to know—” That was as far as he got.

“Legolas? Where the hell have you been?” Tony snapped.  “JARVIS, tell everyone that Barton’s—no, don’t, I’ll surprise them.  God, where are you?  I’ll scramble a jet.  It might take a few hours.  Who’s phone are you using anyway?  Can you—”

“Stark!” Barton interrupted.  “That computer code you gave me, the one you said would erase recent activity.  It’s done something to all the computers in the unit.”

“Oh that, I never said it would erase recent activity.  I said it would _hide_ recent activity.  There’s a difference.”

“By hide, you mean by locking every SHIELD Agent out of the system entirely.”

He could practically hear Stark smirking. “In so many words, yes.  Why, did you get stuck behind a computerized door, Katniss?”

“Enough with the stupid names, Stark.  Your prank would have been frickin’ hilarious if I hadn’t performed in on a SHIELD jet midflight!  The pilot’s been locked out of the cockpit and we need control back before the plane tries to land itself in New York.”

“Did you say Kat—Are you talking to Barton!” yelled a muffled, Russian, female voice in the background of Tony’s phone. 

“Hey,” Tony yelped before Natasha Romanoff started snarling violently in mother tongue.  Clint thought his ears might bleed from the foul language.

“Tasha, put Stark back on the phone.  This is an emergency!  Think Volgograd.”  It was an op that had involved a bomb on a train that they were supposed to diffuse and every second counted.  This was long enough ago that they didn’t have cell phones, but a train conductor had continued to distract them from the task and they had only just managed it with about three seconds to go.

“Fine,” she grumbled after a long moment.

“You calmed her down fast,” Tony said, watching the woman carefully.  “What’s your secret?”

“Tony.  Airplane.  New York City.  No one flying it.”

“Right.  Um, the coding resets all personnel passwords.”

“To what?”

Tony hesitated. “Well, I…”

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll give Natasha the _coding_ to assassinate you on the spot.”

“CaptainSexyPants. All one word, but the C, S and P are capitalized.  Same Username," he reeled off.

Clint just shook his head.  “Tell Natasha and the others I’m almost to New York.  Don’t meet me at HQ.  I’ll make my way to the Tower as soon as I can.”

“You have six hours,” Natasha said, her voice clear enough that he must be on speaker.  “Otherwise, we’re storming it.”

“Fine.”  He hung up.  “Stark’s code reset every password in the jet to CaptainSexyPants.”

“I heard.” Coulson raised an eyebrow but gave no other response, save to type it into his computer and access the plane-wide intercom system.  “The new password for everyone is CaptainSexyPants, with the C, S and P capitalized.  You’re username is the same.”  He turned off the comm, fairly certain he heard muffled confusion throughout the bus.  “And here we are.”

Barton licked his lips and nodded.  “Here we are.”

Coulson came back around the desk and leaned on it.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I survived Loki’s attack.”

Barton shook his head slowly back and forth.  “I saw your body.  I held your hand, kissed your lips.”  Clint swallowed audibly and his SHIELD-ready expressionlessness had vulnerability cracking through all over.  “You were cold.”

Coulson’s heart clenched agonizingly.  “I did die,” he elaborated, “but Fury had them bring me back.  They tooled around in my brain, altering it, hiding things, keeping me from giving up and dying, even when I begged them to let me go.  It took days, multiple surgeries and I spent just over a year recuperating, a year which is filled to the brim with fabricated memories.  Then the moment I got back, I was given my new team and orders. I didn’t want to keep it from you but I knew you were safe and coping and Fury was all for it.  And then I thought that maybe things would be better this way.  A clean break.”

“A clean break?” Barton groused.  “You thought I was better off thinking it was my fault you were dead?  Thinking that the attack I planned out, strategized and enacted got my handler, my _lover_ , murdered?”

Coulson flinched with every hurt word.  Barton had a very nasty guilty streak; Coulson knew it was there, though it was well hidden, but never in a thousand years had he thought that Clint would claim responsibility for his death.  “You were being controlled by Loki.”

“That doesn’t matter.  It was still my plan.  My brain that devised it.  I broke a state of the art helicarrier with one arrow and killed you.”

“You didn’t kill me!”

“I did.  Loki wouldn’t have escaped without me.”  Clint blinked rapidly.

“He would’ve found a way regardless,” Coulson countered.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve already ruined everything.”

“You haven’t.  I’m still here.”

“But you wanted to die.  You just told me—”  That was the rub.

“I don’t anymore.”

“You could just be saying that,” Barton snapped.

“I’m not.  Why are you getting so worked up?”

“Because I love you!” he shouted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, my first proper cliffhanger of the story. God it's been awhile since I wrote one of those.


	7. You Suck at Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is courtesy of Simple Plan.

_“Because I love you!”_

Coulson stared at the archer as he turned red and a tear dripped from his eye.  “I loved you and I thought you’d died.  And you did.  You just didn’t tell me you came back.  For eighteen goddamned months.”  His voice thickened as he spoke and the tear left a clean trail in the dirt he’d acquired in the vents.

“Clint,” Coulson breathed.

“I know,” Barton interrupted, clearing his throat.  “I know we were only supposed to be like friends with benefits or stress relief or whatever but I couldn’t hold myself in check.  Anyway, I’m going to go back to the Tower and you can be with your team and we’ll only have to see each other when we’re both at HQ—”

“Stop talking.”

Clint’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

Coulson looked away, examining his dress shoes.  “The clean break was for me.  If you thought I was dead, I wouldn’t be there to complicate your life.  Furthermore, I didn’t want you to be so mad at me about getting myself stabbed in order to get Natasha, Tony, the Captain, Bruce and Thor to work together against Loki and quite possibly you that you’d break off the—whatever we had—and follow it by beating me to a pulp.”  He flexed his shoulders, which were cramped from being held so tightly.  “I didn’t think you’d blame yourself, not to this degree.  I’m sorry I hurt you.  I’m sorry I didn’t know you loved me.”  He swallowed too and finally added, “I’m sorry I never told you that I love you too.  I've always loved you.  Always.”

“Phil,” Clint whispered.  Phil looked up, searching Clint’s normal, blue eyes; searching out the love in them and finding it easily.  How had he never seen it before? 

The kiss they shared was soft and sweet and neither was sure who initiated it.  Coulson pulled back only to realize his right hand gripped Clint’s hip while the left clutched at the other man’s downy soft hair.  Clint was gripping Phil’s shoulders and using them to pull the older man back for more.  The second kiss was far more thorough.  Clint’s tongue seemed very interested in hitting Phil’s tonsils while Phil tried to outmaneuver him by lapping at Clint’s lower lip, teeth and the tender veins and flesh at the base of Clint’s tongue.

“Coulson, I’m back in control.”  May’s voice came out of the computer, interrupting one of the—possibly just _the_ —hottest kiss either man had ever experienced.  “We’ll be landing shortly.”

Phil didn’t answer.  He just resumed the fierce kiss and vowed never to lose him again.

…

“What do you think they’re doing in there?” Skye asked no one in particular.  She, FitzSimmons and Ward had all gathered in the Conference Room to watch for Coulson’s office door to open and reveal…whatever was going to be revealed.  Skye needed to think her thoughts through even before she thought them.

“You think one of them’s killed the other and is trying to figure out how to hide the body?” Fitz asked.

“If it’s Barton’s body, I’ll help,” Ward put in.  Skye elbowed him.  “Maybe they’re discussing fantasy football, then,” he added, rubbing his side.  Skye’s elbow was painfully sharp.

“Maybe Coulson chewed Agent Hawkeye out so badly that he’s crying in a corner and Coulson’s doing paperwork to the sound of his misery,” Simmons said.

“Please,” Skye argued.  “Agent Clint “Hawkeye” Barton, crying?  Why don’t we just get completely unrealistic and say they’re making out in there.”

Everyone eyed her for a moment before ignoring that comment completely.  It took unrealistic a little too far. “Maybe they climbed out the vent and we’re all just watching the door to an empty office.”

“Now that, Fitz, is a possibility.”

Skye sighed.  “Maybe we need to get a new hobby,” she muttered, dully.

“That would be a good idea.”  They all spun to see Clint drop from a ceiling vent and land perfectly on the floor.  She squinted.  He seemed a bit flushed under all that dirt.  Then again, ventilation systems were hard work.

“Where’s Agent Coulson?” Ward asked edgily.

“Still in his office.  I assume he’s going to call Fury and let him know he’s bringing me in.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Skye asked.

Clint nodded.  “I’ve done enough running.”

“What do you mean?” Simmons asked.

“I left the Avengers a while back.  I think it’s time I went home.”  Then he smiled and his whole face lit up.

…

“Director Fury?” Coulson asked into the video comm on his desk.

Fury stared back at him out of his one good eye.  “I got that call from Stark.  Funny thing was that it wasn’t about you.  It was to complain that I could’ve just told him that I knew where Barton was.”

“Yes, he’s coming in with us.  I’ll give you all the details in my report.”

“Barton’s with you?” Fury spat, his remaining eye dangerously narrowed.

“Yes.  He snuck on the plane through an emergency hatch.”

“Of course he did.”  Fury glowered at him.  “I take it Stark doesn’t know about you, then.”

“Not yet.”  Fury raised his eyebrow.  “Sir, you can’t think we can continue with this farce.  Agent Barton is going to return to the Avengers Initiative.  Even if he was gag ordered, Agent Romanoff at the least will work it out.”

Fury sighed.  “Well, it was worth a shot.  How long before the Avengers storm HQ?”

“If Barton doesn’t make it to Stark’s tower in just over five hours, they’re coming.”  Coulson gave his friend a small smile.

“Oh good, it insures Barton can’t be held.  Fantastic.”

Coulson nodded.  “Mr. Stark is clever like that.”  No need to put Natasha into Fury’s crosshairs when he didn’t know she what she knew already.

Fury grumbled something vaguely insulting about Stark and cut the connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote this chapter after I watched TRACKS. Can I just say OMG, Coulson and Ward are expressing actual emotions!!!! It doesn't affect the story very much, but assume this happens before the events of TRACKS until Skye's situation (for those of you who haven't seen it) is wrapped.
> 
> Please review, I wanna know what people think.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what, I'm alive!!!!! Yay, now then, here's the (much longer than usual) chapter.

When the bay door lowered, Fitz and Simmons were the first ones out.  Ward and May went next, both pointedly not talking to each other.  Skye dragged Hawkeye out with her, fangirling rather loudly.  She stopped abruptly when the others did.  Fury was standing there with a pissed off look on his face.  “I’ve cleared the platform,” he called over their shoulders.  Coulson emerged and joined them.

“Welcome back, Agent Barton,” he said, directing his eye to the missing Avenger.  “Debrief, stop at Medical and get the hell out of here before Stark comes to collect you.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, happily detaching himself from Skye and disappearing into the building.

“Everyone else, same orders, minus the leaving part.  Coulson, a word?”

The five younger SHIELD members filed past him and left their director and team leader alone.  That lasted until Nick opened his mouth and stopped because Clint was back.  “Forget something?” he asked.

“Yes,” Barton replied.

Then he punched Fury in the jaw.  “You’re an asshole.”  He nodded to Coulson and went back inside as the director straightened and massaged the soon to be massive bruise.  Phil continued to look bland until the other man dropped his hands to parade rest and looked at Phil with something akin to guilt.

Coulson stepped closer and shoved his hands into his pockets.  “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to continue running the Mobile Unit Team.  You can’t just come back and be the Avengers’ liaison with SHIELD.”

Coulson frowned.  “I didn’t think I would.”

Fury relaxed.  “Good, because you really aren’t supposed to sleep with your assets.”

Coulson twitched.  “Sir?”

“I’m not an idiot, Coulson.  The others may not have noticed the change in you when Loki took Barton with him, but I certainly did.”

Coulson dug his nails into his palms, but showed no other signs that the game was up.  “Sir, I’m aware of protocol—”

“Screw protocol,” Fury snapped.  “Especially one you wrote yourself.  Those rules were designed for people who would take advantage of a relationship like that.”

“Sir, with all due respect…”

“Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong?” Fury sounded rather astute.

“No,” Coulson said, at last.

“Good.  Now follow the instructions I gave Barton.”

Coulson nodded and hurried inside.

…

“You ready to do this?”  Barton and Coulson were currently double parked outside Stark Tower in Coulson’s precious Lola three hours after landing at HQ.  “He’ll know the moment I access the garage.”

“He might just wait for us upstairs.  In fact, he might just gather everyone and not check the security feeds.  In fact, that’s probably exactly what he’ll do.”

Phil’s hand found Clint’s resting on the seat.  “Then let’s go.”

They headed around the block.  No one approached them in the garage under the tower, but the elevator was waiting for them.  On the top floor, they stepped out and found the living room and kitchen deserted.

“Where is everyone?” Coulson asked.

“Maybe there was a call to assemble?” Barton suggested.  It didn’t really make sense as he would’ve noticed Doom Bots attacking the city at some point on the drive over, but—

The elevator pinged.  Both men turned in time to see Captain America drop a coffee mug, which shattered on the ground.

“Barton… _Coulson?”_ he choked out.  “What? How?”

“I bumped into him in Brazil,” Clint said casually.  “Decided to bring him back home.”

Steve smiled, then frowned.  “But Fury—”

“Fury lied.  I was revived shortly after I died and spent a long time recovering.”  Shortly meaning days, but he didn’t need to give them the particulars.  Not yet, at least.

“But now you’re back—”

“Not to stay.”

Barton frowned in surprise and looked at him.  The captain opened his mouth then closed it again.  He didn’t want to be interrupted again.  And, sure enough, Coulson said, “What? I have a team that can’t be left unattended.  Skye alone is a handful.”

“Yes, but—”

This time it was Barton who got interrupted by the arrival of Iron Man as he landed on the balcony outside.  He hurried in, seeing only Barton.  “You got here too quickly,” he whined the moment JARVIS had removed the suit.  “I haven’t even told the others to expect a surprise from SHIELD.  Or an even better surprise because it’s always a treat to storm HQ.”  He pulled up short, maybe five inches from the archer, still ignoring anyone else in the room.  “You look less miserable than usual.  Did you get laid?  Oh! Did you break out of HQ and now you’re hiding from Fury? ‘Cause I’m totally down with you staying here again.”

“He was released properly an hour ago, Mr. Stark.  I’m sure Director Fury simply wanted to curtail any dramatics,” Coulson said with a dry smile.

The shift in Tony’s face was almost comical as he spun to see the suit he’d been pointedly ignoring, thinking that he might just be hallucinating because he was so excited about Barton coming home.  “Agent?” His voice held nothing but mild shock.  “Thought you bit it.”

“Could you please be a touch more delicate?” Steve asked, rolling his eyes.  Clint just smirked.

“Well, in this case, we’re going to have a double surprise!  And a party, I think.  JARVIS?  Would you tell everyone to get there asses up to the top floor?”

“Certainly sir,” JARVIS answered.

“Could you do it more delicately?” Steve asked, knowing that JARVIS, at least, might listen to him.

“I assure you that I am far less uncouth than Mr. Stark in such areas.”

“Am I gonna have to reprogram you?” Tony grumbled. JARVIS did not dignify that with an answer. 

Natasha was the first to respond the summons.  She pushed open the door to the staircase and her eyes darted first to Barton, then Coulson.  There they stayed.  She approached slowly.  A foot away, her eyes met Clint’s.  They had a telepathic conversation before she nodded and punched Coulson in the right shoulder.  He spun away, grimacing, but he knew she could have dislocated it if she put enough force behind it.  But no, she was just mad, not completely pissed.

Pepper was the only one to see Coulson before Barton and ran forward, tearfully hugging him, prompting Tony to make a couple of faces, and Banner clapped him on the shoulder, unaware of what Natasha had done to it, and murmured, “Glad to have you back,” before greeting Barton in a similar fashion.  Thor was on Asgard at the moment, but Tony assured them that his welcome would be as boisterous as was usual for the God of Thunder.

“Hate to break up this love fest, but don’t we have to plan an attack on Fury for lying to us?”

“Do we have to?” Phil asked in a tone that, from any other man, would have been a whine.

Tony raised an eyebrow.  “Did you and Barton swap mouths when we weren’t watching?”

Clint choked on air.  There went his blasé façade; Phil’s held but for a roll of his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Pepper asked. 

“Yeah,” he gasped.  “Just swapping mouths back.”  He offered a grin. 

Pepper and Tony exchanged a look.  Neither of them had ever seen Barton smile.  Not once in the ten months he’d lived with them.  Neither of them had even seen him be anything other than completely emotionless on missions and utterly miserable and morose in the tower.  But now, his eyes were bright and lively.  It was a shocking transformation.  Tony had heard about the playful Hawkeye from before Loki’s mind control.  A Clint Barton that scared junior agents and shot arrows, both real and Nerf, through the halls and into the higher-ups’ offices.  Post-invasion, he’d been great in battle and politely tolerating the rest of the time, but Tony had been hoping for someone to cause mischief with.

The only change they knew about was Coulson.  Maybe the fact that he was alive had changed Barton’s outlook on the attack.  None of it had been his fault after all.  He’d been under Loki’s sway, the other Avengers accepted that.  They thought he had accepted it too. 

Coulson must have been the tipping point.  Pepper worked all this out quickly and Tony was working on it, but a look from his girlfriend made him let it go for now.  He clapped his hands together.  “Right.  It’s about eleven at night.  Who wants to hit the bar?”

Everyone except Natasha groaned.  She just ignored him.  “Tony,” Clint said, “I’ve been trapped in a Brazilian Cartel’s underground prison for six weeks and sleeping in a car for most of the rest of the eight months I was gone.  I wanna sleep in my bed.”

Tony’s head cocked to the side.  “Fair enough.  We’ll grill you in the morning then.”

“Fine.”  Barton nodded to the others and turned.  “Let’s go, Coulson?”

“You’re taking him with you?” Steve asked, slightly crestfallen.  He had started thinking about the baseball cards and wanted to catch up with the other man.

Coulson paused and turned back, to Clint’s rather obvious annoyance.  “I’ve had as little sleep as Barton and I assume you don’t actually have a floor prepped for me.”

“Well, no,” Pepper replied, “but you’re welcome to any of the guest floors.”

“Come on,” Barton growled, causing raised eyebrows.

“It’s fine,” Coulson told her.  “Barton and I still have things to talk about.  Good night.”  He followed the blond without another word.  At the elevator, he turned to say something else but the doors opened and the other man yanked him inside.

The moment the elevator doors closed, Tony asked, “What the hell was that?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, all innocence.

“Are they going to do what I think they’re going to…” Banner abruptly stopped speaking as he caught the tiniest smile on Natasha’s face.  Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.  “On second thought, I’d rather not know.”  Pepper started to giggle and Steve just kept frowning.

Tony, a bit slow on the uptake today, invariably found his way to the gutter.  “Oh.  My god.  They’re doing it!”

“Doing what?” Steve asked.

 “It.  The nasty.  Sex.  Making sweet, handler-asset man-love.”  Tony ran a hand through his hair as the pieces clicked together. 

Steve blanched.  Then, just as quickly, turned scarlet.  “I think I’m gonna go to bed too.  Alone.”  With that he made for the staircase.

“I’m gonna just go back to my lab,” Banner added, heading for the elevator with pink tinged ears.  Natasha was gone before Tony or Pepper even noticed.

“So, Agent’s alive, Barton’s back, they’re sleeping together and no one’s punched Fury yet.  Only one thing left to be rectified then.”

“I’m in agreement with Hawkeye, actually,” Pepper replied.  “Can we put it off to tomorrow?”  She grinned at him.  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Tony’s entire demeanor changed.  “Hmm, really?  Well, I suppose I’ll get gratification one way or another tonight.”

The smile vanished.  “Yeah.  Sure.  If _that’s_ how you want to look our relationship.”  Pepper rolled her eyes and started for the elevator.  Tony licked his lips and followed, already forming an I’m-sorry-I’m-such-an-asshole speech to keep himself off the couch that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it, please review and be awesome.


	9. Chapter 9

“And this is my bedroom.”  Coulson stepped into the master bedroom on Clint’s floor, followed almost immediately by Barton.  “And that’s the tour.”

“Saved the best room for last, did you?”

Barton grinned.  “Something like that.”  He stepped in close and gripped Phil’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of the other man’s neck. 

Goose bumps rose there and spread quickly. “Clint, wait.”  He flinched when Clint nipped at his collar bone.  They’d been apart for so long.  “Please, we have to talk about this.”

“Can’t we do it later?”  Barton’s hands slid down to unbutton Phil’s jacket and brush over the tight flesh and silk shirt.

“No.  I have to know what this is.”

“Why?”

Phil swallowed.  Clint had stopped moving, ready to back away at the slightest provocation.  “Because,” he turned, gripping Hawkeye’s arms to keep him there, “I don’t think I can go back to the way things were.”

“What do you mean?” Clint asked nervously.

“I mean that now that you know I love you and I know that you love me, I can’t just be the guy you sleep with to relieve stress.”  It was the most awkward sentence he’d ever spoken; of that, Phil was certain.  But now it was out there and he couldn’t take it back.  So he just waited.

Barton’s eyes narrowed.  “Are you saying you want us to have a…a serious relationship?”

Coulson licked his lips.  “Yes.”

“Phil, you do realize that I’ve not slept with anyone but you in about ten years.  No one at all after you…after what happened with Loki.”

Phil started.  He hadn’t known that.  “I guess I just assumed that you had multiple partners.”

“No,” Clint replied, taken aback.  “Why, did you?”

“Of course not, but that’s different.”

“How?”

“Well, I’m not exactly twenty-eight anymore.  One person, especially one I’m in love with, is more than enough.  And since I got back, I’ve been on a plane where two people are already sleeping together, two more have enough sexual tension between them to disrupt a nuke and Skye.”

Clint snorted.  “Sounds awful.  Why do you wanna go back again?”

“So I don’t have to worry about you all the time.  Every time you do something stupid on a mission, I want to stop focusing on the big picture and yell at you til you get somewhere safer.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Clint said mockingly.  Coulson shoved him away and turned his back again.

The archer sighed and approached once more.  “I’m sorry.  I always treated us as a serious or, at least, monogamous thing.  Besides, I’m not exactly twenty-eight either.  I might’ve been when we started this, but not now.  If you want it to become more normal, something where we go out on dates and get in trouble for PDAs and such, I’m fine with it.  I might even grow to like it.”  He touched Phil’s shoulder and the man whipped around, clutching the archer and crashing their lips together.

It was only a matter of minutes before both of them were stripped and tumbling into bed, hands searching out scars, old and new, and once familiar erogenous zones that each knew on the other by heart.  Phil rolled on top and stared down at his lover, his dog tags dangling, brushing the center of Clint’s chest.  Clint grinned breathlessly up at him and his hands slid over Phil’s waist.  “Has it really been a year and a half since you…” he trailed off.  Clint nodded, grimacing slightly.  He was going to be tight as hell.  Phil smiled.  “I’ll take my time.”

Clint’s teeth sparkled.  “Please do.”  Phil leaned down and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilolgue left now. Thanks for reading, sorry for taking so long. My life has gotten angsty.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10—Epilogue

Morning found Clint and Phil, fully dressed and sipping coffee, when the others entered the kitchen.  “Looks like somebody enjoyed being back in his own bed a little too much,” Tony said as he opened the fridge.

Barton controlled his face, even as he choked on burning coffee.  “I slept perfectly well, thanks Tony.”

“Mmhmm, and what’s with that perky little smile I’ve never seen before.”

“What perky little smile?” Clint asked, his face steadying down to his usual scowl. 

“The one you just had on your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Coulson has one too.”

Everyone looked at Coulson, who was sipping coffee and looking absolutely expressionless.  “How can you tell?” Barton asked.

“He’s doing it.  I know he is.” 

“He’s right you know,” Natasha murmured, suddenly sitting at the table.  You know you’re sitting at a table of spies when one appears and no one but Tony, who’s across the room, jumps.  “There’s something about you today.  You’re smiling on the inside and it’s showing in your eyes, just a touch.”

“Does everybody know, then?” Clint asked.

“Yep,” Tony said, recovering quickly and joining them.  “Even Steve.”

“Great,” Clint grumbled.  “Just great.”  Then a small smile spread over his lips.  “Then again, if that’s the case…” He lunged over the table to kiss his lover.  Phil was taken by surprise, but dumped Clint on his ass the moment he recovered.  “Ow!”

“So much for PDAs,” Tony murmured.

“It was a reflex,” Phil said, sounding mildly apologetic as he stuck out a hand to pull his lover back up.  Clint took it and just refused to let go.  Phil gave up on freeing it and drank his coffee with the other hand.  Steve drifted in and immediately noted the hand holding and the bright happiness in Barton’s eyes—something he’d never seen—and sweetness in Coulson’s.  Having the relationship confirmed before his eyes, Steve blushed fiercely again and turned to get his own coffee.

The others exchanged worried looks.  “Is this gonna be a problem, Cap?” Tony asked.

Steve paled and turned, horrified.  “No!  It’s not that.  But, you know, in the forties, except for dances, affection—between anybody—was something private and more discreet.  It’s nothing to do with the two of you being…men.”  He was becoming flustered.

“It’s true,” Bruce said, suddenly appearing and leaning against the entry and taking pity on the captain.  “Last time we went to that Starbucks on the corner, this guy had his girlfriend in his lap and was trying to suck all the skin off her face.  Steve was a strawberry for the next hour and he was facing away from them.”

Steve shuddered.  “The suction noise.  I didn’t know humans could make that sound.”

Tony and Clint laughed while the others smiled.  Then a cell phone started to ring.  Clint’s hand was released as Coulson withdrew a phone from his pocket.  “Coulson…right away, sir.”  He ended the call.

“You have to leave.”  It wasn’t a question.

Phil nodded.  “Something’s happened.  May is already fueling the jet.”  He stood and Clint followed suit.  They both looked at Steve, who quickly closed his eyes.  The others—minus Tony, who was staring lasciviously—looked in various directions.  Clint stepped close and kissed Phil softly.  Phil turned it into a heated one, nipping Clint’s lower lip and pulling him flush against his body.

When they broke apart, Clint was a bit breathless.  He smiled.  “Good luck,” he whispered under his breath.  “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Phil replied, just as quietly.

Phil left.  Tony stood and made his way around the table to Steve.  His mouth formed an O and he centered his tongue before inhaling sharply, making a suctioning sound as it caught on the sides of his lips.  “Oh god!” Steve yelled, his eyes flying open as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.  “Tony!”  Clint and Natasha cackled and Steve leapt to his feet.

Tony ran, dodging around Bruce and a newly arrived Pepper.  Steve was hot on his heels.  “Do I want to know?” she asked the remaining Avengers.

Bruce just shook his head while the assassins tried to regain control of themselves.  Pepper eyed them nervously.  Two of SHIELD’s best killers in the Tower was odd enough.  Two of SHIELD’s best killers in the Tower laughing insanely was downright eerie.  She wondered how long it would take to miss the quiet Natasha and sullen Hawkeye.  Probably not very long.

…

“Hey Boss,” Skye called when she reached the mobile unit and found him just sitting in his car in the loading bay.  She opened the passenger side door and joined him.  “Did everything go well with the Avengers?”

“It did,” he replied shortly.

“You were gone all night,” she hedged.

“I slept there.”  Apparently, that was all she would get.  She sighed loudly and slouched down.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said absently.

She jumped a little.  “Think about what?”

“Putting your feet on the dashboard.  Just don’t.”  Then he got out to speak with Simmons, who was walking up the gangway.  Skye pouted and scrunched lower.  She’d find out what happened after he and Hawkeye had left Headquarters.  She’d find out if it was the last thing she ever did.

“You won’t figure it out.”  Skye jumped at the sound of May’s voice.

“Jeez,” she grumbled, turning around.  “What is this, the Vague-ness Team?”

May just shook her head.  “Let private lives stay private.  It’s easier that way.” Then she was gone.

“Private lives…” Skye’s eyes bugged out and she sat straight up.  “What?”  She looked back at Coulson and Simmons, now joined by Fitz.  “No way.”  Then she smirked.  Maybe she’d leave it for now.  Especially if it meant more trips to New York.  She might even get to meet some more Avengers.  She got out of the car and headed up to her room to get her laptop.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's it. I hope you enjoyed it and thanks so much for reading.


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